


Glimpses

by Wolven_Spirits



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cute, Eventual Smut, Fae & Fairies, Fluff and Humor, Harry likes to peep on Tom, Idiots in Love, M/M, Oblivious Harry Potter, Tom encourages it, because Tom, brownie!Harry, drabble-y, instant combustion smut, one sort of dark chapter, the opposite of slow burn, uneven chapter lengths
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:49:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22805830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolven_Spirits/pseuds/Wolven_Spirits
Summary: Harry is a hardworking brownie who can't help but crush on the owner of the house — the handsome Tom Riddle. It's definitely a good thing that Tom hasn't caught a glimpse of him, because Harry just can't help but blush bright red whenever he sees Tom.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Comments: 323
Kudos: 1432
Collections: 3P Anthology, Bottom!Harry, Creature Fics, Harry Potter, Riddle, Top-tier HP/TMR Fics





	1. Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aroundloafofbread](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aroundloafofbread/gifts), [FermionCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FermionCat/gifts).



> This fic is absolutely the fault of fermioncat and aroundloafofbread. 
> 
> Apologies for the uneven chapter lengths. This is a drabble fic that got slightly out of hand. It has been written completely and I will be posting as I finish editing each chapter.

The moon rose and the sky darkened and once he heard owner of the house climb into bed, Harry crept out from the cupboard under the stairs. It was a cramped space, but not too small for him, as he was a little bit shorter than most of his kind, though not too much shorter than the average human male.

It was a cozy little spot, stuffed full of old sheets and blankets and so fully packed that it was rather like climbing into a cloud. But most importantly, it was a spot that was ignored for the most part, which made it the perfect place to sleep away the day, tucked behind some dusty boxes and forgotten books.

The house itself was not overly large. It had two floors but had only one bedroom, one bathroom, and a rather cramped kitchen. The living room was fairly grand, but most of the space was taken up by the solarium, the study, and the immense library that spanned most of the first floor.

Though it was no mansion, it was still decorated tastefully with dark greens and smatterings of silver. It was mostly tidy but for the stacks of books and loose parchment that tended to appear upon most surfaces. Harry liked it, though. It was elegant and comfortable in its dark woods and linen curtains and the dried herbs that hung in the kitchen, harvested from the garden.

Harry crept up the stairs and poked his head around the corner, peering into the master bedroom. There lay the owner, serene as he slept, illuminated by the sweet light of the moon. He was a handsome man, Harry had to admit. Hard working and intelligent, too. Harry couldn’t help but admire just how much he accomplished in his work each day.

Harry, admittedly, had no idea what the man was researching, but it was evidently highly important, for the man had multiple awards waiting to be hung upon the walls, and a long row of books published under his name. It was because of this admiration that, even though the man left no cake or cream or even a small loaf of bread for him, Harry did not leave.

Ginny thought he was crazy for staying. She had been the one to move into the house first, back when the owner had first claimed this small, isolated cottage. She’d lasted a total of a week before she’d exploded in a storm of rage over the lack of offerings. She’d trashed the kitchen, smashed one of the windows, and stormed off to find a better place to occupy.

Harry, having recently vacated the horrid Dursley residence, had been admittedly curious. Ginny was normally kind and sweet. For her to feel so slighted was unusual. So he’d observed the owner for a few days, watching him clean the mess Ginny had made while also spending most of his day buried in books and elegant scribblings.

He worked well into the night those days, dividing his time between repairing the damage and continuing his work, and Harry had found himself in awe of his fortitude, his mental strength.

And, of course, his beauty.

Harry blushed a little as he ducked back into the hall. He didn’t normally find humans that attractive. Goddess knows the Dursleys were all kinds of ugly, and the Dumbledore fellow he’d helped before them had been old and wrinkly for so many years that Harry wondered if he’d been born that way, beard and all.

But… Tom…

There was something about him that drew Harry’s gaze. That made him trace the refined features, the deep set eyes and thin lips and sharp jawline. That made him stop and listen when the man muttered to himself late into the night, his voice deep and rumbling.

Harry smiled a little as he grabbed a broom and got to work. He chased the dust out the front door, washed the large pile of dishes (and snuck a few bites to eat while he was at it), and scrubbed down the bathroom. By the time the sun began to rise, he was quite tired but felt rather accomplished. He packed away the last of the food that Tom accidentally left out (really, the man was so forgetful, always leaving his leftovers lying about), and crept up the stairs once more.

He peeked around and saw Tom disheveled in his sleep, though his brows were twitching with the oncoming morning. Harry wanted to linger a little longer and admire the fluttering lashes and parted lips, but Tom was beginning to stir so Harry scurried back as the man grumbled to himself, reaching for wakefulness.

He hurried down the stairs and crawled into the cupboard, closing the door silently. He clambered over the stack of boxes, waving away the dust that puffed (he would have to clean that tomorrow), curled up in his fluffy nest of blankets and, lulled by the faint sounds of morning birds, fell into a deep sleep.


	2. Bath time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone is staying safe and healthy these days, and I hope this can bring some smiles to your day <3.

Harry woke up early that evening. He wasn’t sure why, as he normally wouldn’t wake for another hour or two, but perhaps Tom had dropped something heavy or had clattered some of the dishes together. He burrowed a little deeper into the mass of blankets that surrounded him, reluctant to part with the soft warmth that enveloped him. He buried his face into the cloth, the faint smell of honey lingering in his nose.

Then he sighed. He was awake now, and if he went back to sleep, he might not wake up in time to get all of the cleaning done. With a small groan he stretched and yawned and crawled out from behind the boxes before pausing to listen. He heard the sound of the taps squeaking upstairs and his eyes widened. His heart jumped and his hand came up to cover his mouth, suddenly feeling very wide awake. He knew exactly what that sound meant.

Tom was about to have a bath.

He blushed at the thought, because Tom really was very handsome, and Harry very much liked the way his body looked without any clothes on. It was a new feeling, to _want_ to spend time looking at a human. But Harry found that he enjoyed the way his heart thumped and his blood rushed and little fairies flew about his stomach whenever he caught a glimpse of handsome Tom Riddle.

Not to mention the way —

Harry squeaked and covered his face, shaking his head to dispel such thoughts. Really, he was here to clean, not to get caught up in his fantasies. No one would want a brownie who couldn’t even finish the chores before the sun rose.

He sat next to the cupboard door for a few moments, waiting and listening until he heard the telltale sound of water splashing and the taps squeaking once more as the water was shut off. Then he finally opened the door and crept out.

It was almost dark out, which meant that it was late enough that Tom would go to bed straight after bathing. He would not come back downstairs, so Harry could stay out and perhaps even start cleaning a little early.

He fidgeted a little, torn between what he _wanted_ to do and what he _should_ do. But if he did what he wanted, he might get caught. Tom was a smart man with keen eyes and Harry had never been great at maintaining invisibility for long periods of time. He always got distracted and his magic would flicker away, as flighty as his thoughts.

He dithered for another few moments before glancing longingly up the stairs. He had already risked being seen last week, poking his head around the corner while Tom was dressing, so he supposed this time —

Harry blinked, noticing the crisp white towel draped over the staircase bannister. The towel that Tom likely intended to use once he finished bathing. Only he must have forgotten to bring it into the bathroom with him, and would be left stranded without it, forced to step into the chilly air with no clothes, dripping more and more water with each step he took in his search for his towel…

Harry’s face heated up and his eyes glazed for a moment before he reached a decision.

Harry was a helper. Helping was what he did. So, naturally, given that Tom was in such a predicament, it was only right that Harry helped him.

Nodding firmly, Harry crept up the stairs and took the towel gently in his hands. There was a smooth, dry scent blended with sweet honey that lingered from Tom’s touch — something instinctively familiar and yet Harry couldn’t quite place what it was. He inhaled a little, savouring the smell, then folded it up nicely, and snuck partway down the hall until he was standing right next to the bathroom. The door was open and warm light diffused into the hallway, followed by billowing steam from the hot bath.

He was not sure if Tom was reading or not, but he hoped he was, as it would mean that the man would be thoroughly distracted and in no position to _notice_ things. Things like Harry. So, slowly, slowly, Harry peered around the doorsill.

The bathroom was painted a soft green and the furniture was made of rustic wood and its earthy feel made it one of Harry’s favourite rooms. Really, it was not just because Tom Riddle often stripped naked in it, though that was certainly a bonus.

There was a glint of light reflecting off of the shaving mirror propped in the corner of the tub, and it drew Harry’s eye to the man sitting in the tub. His breath hitched as he saw Tom lounging naked and lightly flushed in the bathtub. Oh Goddess, the man was so very beautiful.

Harry watched as Tom tilted his head slightly, gazing into the mirror, then reached up and dragged a hand through his hair, sweeping it from his eyes. Despite the steam, Harry could see each muscle flex and then relax as the man dropped his arm back down. Then Tom shifted, his chest glistening as the water in the tub splashed playfully upon the defined muscles and sculpted clavicles.

Harry whimpered, his hands tightening around the towel in his arms. This was _so. Not. Fair_. How was he supposed to get his cleaning done when this was all he was going to be able to think about all night?

Crouching down, Harry buried his face in the towel, trying to orient his thoughts. He had to be careful, otherwise he would be seen. He straightened with a sigh and glanced back into the bathroom. Tom was resting his head on his hand, staring into the mirror and smirking. Ah, but he was rather vain, wasn’t he? Harry thought with a fond smile. Well, at least Tom deserved to be, handsome as he was.

He waited until Tom shifted again. The man sat forward after a while, reaching for the soap and revealing the broad expanse of his back, smooth and pale, muscles shifting with each motion. Harry bit back another whimper and almost missed his chance to sneak the towel onto the chair next to the tub. He broke out of his trance just in time, turning invisible and darting in to place the towel before rushing back out, his breaths quick as his heart raced. Goddess, he’d been so _close_ to the man.

He crouched down and placed his head between his knees, plugging his nose and breathing deeply through his mouth. It took a few moments to fully calm himself, but finally he was able to stand and make his way back downstairs to start his cleaning early.

And if he hummed and danced a little as he swept, well, that was for _him_ to know, and only him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Upstairs in the bathroom Tom leaned back, his smirk lingering upon his lips. He reached out, his fingers brushing across the soft towel before lifting it and bringing it to his nose. He inhaled the scent of damp earth, and his expression softened. _Perhaps_ , he thought to himself, _soon_.


	3. How does one court a brownie?

Something rattled against the cupboard door as Harry opened it a few nights later and he paused, hoping that the noise hadn’t been so loud as to wake Tom up. The man was not a light sleeper, but there had been the occasional time that Harry had heard the man waking up halfway through his cleaning. He’d barely had the time to find a place to hide those times that the man had descended downstairs for a midnight snack. He had honestly been rather worried that Tom had noticed him hiding behind the curtain or the wingback chair in the living room. Luckily Tom’s eyes must have passed over him, for the man made no indication that he had spotted the shy little brownie.

Harry opened the door a little further — slower this time. He peered around and noted a golden locket dangling from the doorknob. He inspected it curiously. It was quite beautiful, if a little ostentatious. It glimmered in the faint light of the moon and was inscribed with a green serpentine ’S’ on the front. It looked almost familiar, as if Harry had seen it a long time ago, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, and figured it was simply his imagination.

He admired it for a moment before shrugging. Perhaps the man had put it there so that he wouldn’t forget it on his next trip out.

Harry paused at the thought and wondered a little glumly if Tom had found someone to court. Then he shook his head. Really, it was none of his business. If — if Tom found someone and moved somewhere bigger to support a growing family, well, Harry would simply find another home to clean. That — that was all.

He swept a little slower that night, unable to quite muster up his usual enthusiasm. Still, he managed to clean everything before the moon fell, and crept back into his cupboard just as the sun began to rise. The locket rattled as the door clicked shut and he dove into his little nest, placing his pillow on top of his ears to muffle the noise.

—

The next week he found a diadem next to the usual plate of abandoned leftovers in the kitchen. It was a beautiful piece, undoubtedly. Intricately carved and studded with what must have been priceless gems. Harry stared at it for a few moments, admiring the skill that had gone into creating such a piece. He was quite sure he had never seen anything so intricately crafted by any human before.

Then his face fell a little. She must be beautiful, the woman Tom had found, to deserve such an incredible gift.

He nibbled half-heartedly at his stolen meal before putting down the fork, finding that his appetite had left him. He stared blankly at the plate for a few moments before shaking his head. He had work to do. Tom certainly wouldn’t want to stay in a house with a useless brownie.

He gave a little sigh and packed away the leftovers before returning to his broom. He nudged the dust out the door, swept out the fireplace, and even dusted the sconces lining the hallway.

Then, with one last lingering look at the glimmering piece still resting in the kitchen, he headed back to his little nest, his steps slow, his heart a little sad.

—

Harry felt tears spring to his eyes when he saw the ring resting on the hearth. His heart clenched uncomfortably. Had — had Tom decided, then, to marry this woman? Not that it was any of Harry’s business, of course. He was just a brownie. One who had been slacking lately, too.

His mind had wandered so often each night that twice he had forgotten to empty the garbage, and once he had even forgotten to put the leftovers away! Oh, of all the hog’s warts, how could he be so selfish!

He wiped his eyes on his sleeve and began to sweep furiously, scolding himself all the while. After all, even if Tom did move out and to a bigger place, perhaps he would still need a brownie. Perhaps Harry could move with him, if no one else had claimed that house.

But Tom wouldn’t want a lazy brownie. He would want — no, he would _need_ someone who would do a proper job.

Harry’s shoulders slumped for a moment, his lips pursing. He _liked_ being the only one around Tom. The only one to see his sleeping face and his naked chest when he bathed —

Harry squeaked and slapped his hand over his eyes as he flushed red at the thought. He crouched down, burying his head between his knees and plugging his nose until the thoughts passed. Then he shook himself out and resumed sweeping with a little sniff. He couldn’t be selfish, now. Eventually Tom would be with someone else, and there was nothing Harry could do about that.

And that — well, that was simply the way of the world. In the end, all Harry could do was support his human.

He was only a brownie, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tom stepped into the living room and glanced at the hearth. The ring glimmered mockingly at him and he frowned. Had he chosen the wrong item? Had it been too gaudy? But it was an heirloom, old as his line, and just as valuable.
> 
> His lips pursed as he picked it up and put it in his pocket. None of his gifts seemed to have worked. Perhaps he would have to try a different method.
> 
> His eyes lingered on the cupboard and he sighed. He hadn’t thought it would be quite so difficult to court a brownie.


	4. A concerned friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for Tom being Tom
> 
> If you don't want to read anything dark, you can skip this chapter.

The next day, Harry received a surprise.

“C-Cedric?” Harry blinked in shock at the brownie that stood before him, grinning sheepishly.

“Harry, I’d heard from Luna who heard from Ginny that you were working for an awful human. I’ve been worried, so I came to check on you.”

Harry blushed a little. Cedric was very cute when he smiled. “I’m doing just fine,” he said. “The human who lives here is — he’s — “ handsome. Intelligent. In love with someone else. “Great,” he said lamely. “He’s great.”

Cedric’s smile faded and his brow furrowed. “Harry, are you sure you’re okay? You look tired. You’re a bit on the pale side, too. When did you eat last? I heard this human doesn’t leave any cakes out.” He crossed his arms disapprovingly.

Harry smiled faintly. Really, Cedric was far too kind for his own good. “I sneak some of his leftovers. He always forgets to put them away.”

“But he doesn’t appreciate you,” Cedric said flatly. “And I _know_ just how thorough your cleaning is. I mean, even those Dursley fellows left you _something_.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yeah, they left me a sliver of grapefruit when they were feeling generous.”

“It’s still better than _nothing_ ,” Cedric insisted. “Maybe you should find a different place. There’s a house near my human that has no brownie. Edgecomb, her name is. A friend of my human’s. I’m sure she’d leave cake out for you.”

Harry fiddled with the edge of his sleeve. _But she wouldn’t be Tom_ , he wanted to say. “Really, it’s not so bad here,” he said instead, attempting a smile as his mind wandered to the ring he’d seen the other day. He might not even be here for much longer anyway, he thought glumly.

“I’m not sure I believe you,” Cedric said, a frown upon his face.

Harry nibbled on his lip and glanced away.

“I’m worried about you, Harry. I’m going to stay here and make sure that everything really is okay. You’re such a bleeding heart, Harry. I know that’s why you stayed with the Dursleys for so long even though they were rotten humans. Now, I’m going to help you finish up your chores so that you can rest a little more. You look exhausted.”

Harry puffed up. “I can do my cleaning just fine!” He scowled.

“I know you can,” Cedric raised his hands soothingly. “But everyone needs a break once in a while.”

Harry deflated. He _had_ been a little extra tired lately.“What about your human?” He asked. “You can’t just leave her.”

“She’s on vacation,” Cedric shrugged. “She won’t be back for a couple of weeks.”

Harry pursed his lips but nodded. It would be nice to have a comforting presence around while dealing with the looming reality of his future. Because one day, he would no longer be able to be Tom’s brownie. His shoulders sagged and he couldn’t quite bring himself to protest when Cedric steered him to a nearby chair.

“I’ll do the sweeping today. You have some food. You’re far too thin, really.” Cedric shook his head as he placed the plate of leftovers in Harry’s hands.

Harry picked at the food a little halfheartedly as he watched Cedric sweep. Really, Harry should have been the one doing all the work. How was Tom supposed to appreciate him if he couldn’t even do his job properly?

He sighed a little and packed up the food and put it away. He managed to wipe up a few crumbs before Cedric shot him a stern look and forced him to sit back down.

Harry sent him a faint smile. He’d let Cedric take over most of it, but he could still do some things. He couldn’t… he couldn’t let himself become useless to Tom.

—

The next morning, a loud thump from upstairs woke the both of them up a little early. Harry uncurled from where he’d been squished against Cedric, his nest not quite big enough to properly fit the both of them.

“’S not time yet,” Cedric mumbled from where he was still half asleep.

Harry heard the taps squeak. He flushed a little, glad that the darkness hid his face. “He’s bathing.”

Cedric made an uninterested noise of acknowledgment.

“He always forgets his towel when he bathes,” Harry said as he crawled over the boxes in the cupboard.

“That’s not really something you need to fix,” Cedric said with a sigh as he sat up, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“But he’ll get sick if he doesn’t dry off quickly enough. Humans are weak like that,” Harry replied stubbornly. He slowly opened the cupboard door and peered out. Sure enough, he could just see the ends of a white towel dangling over the bannister. He huffed in fond exasperation. Honestly, what would Tom do without him?

The thought sobered him a little and his head ducked down. He started as a warm hand rested on his head and ruffled his hair gently. It felt nice, and he leaned a little into the touch.

“I’ll take care of it,” Cedric said with a grin. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head over it.”

Harry flushed. “I’m not pretty,” he sputtered. “And — and I can do this just fine!” He didn’t want anyone _else_ to see Tom without his clothes on. That was — that was _Harry’s_ privilege. Even if it was only temporary.

Cedric rolled his eyes, ignoring Harry’s attempts to stop him. “Don’t worry, Harry. I won’t mess this up.”

“But — “ Harry cut himself off. He couldn’t _actually_ tell Cedric why he didn’t want him to help with this task. Cedric would probably label him as crazy and cart him off immediately. “But he’s very observant,” he said instead, his shoulders sagging in resignation. “You have to check and see if he’s looking. Otherwise he’ll notice you.”

Cedric saluted in a very human manner. “I’ll peek in before I do anything,” he promised.

Harry sighed and crouched down, resting his head on his knees as he waited for Cedric to return.

A few moments later the other brownie reappeared, nodding in satisfaction. “It went off without a hitch,” he said.

Harry smiled weakly. “Great,” he said. “Thanks. Um, I guess we can get started. He never comes down after his bath.”

Cedric shrugged and nodded. “Sure,” he replied, grabbing the broom.

But it was only ten minutes later that the sound of splashing reached their ears, and then a few moments after that came the sound of footsteps down the stairs. Harry froze, eyes wide as he glanced at Cedric. “Behind the chair,” he hissed. “I’ve hidden there before. He won’t see you.” He barely had time to see Cedric nod before he himself darted behind the long curtains, curling up as small as he could. After a few moments, he peered out cautiously.

He could see Cedric crouched behind the chair, his pale hair glinting slightly in the moonlight. He hadn’t gone invisible, but Tom was not looking at him, so Harry doubted the man had spotted him.

From where he was crouched, Harry could see the way Tom’s gaze swept the room, his face dark and set in a scowl. Harry wondered what had put him in such a bad mood. He had been perfectly fine the previous night. But then the human’s gaze turned to the windows and Harry had to duck back behind the thick cloth.

A few moments later, the stairs creaked and Tom went back upstairs, a book tucked under his arm. His steps were heavy and foreboding, his lips downturned, and Harry felt his heart clench at the anger he saw in the man’s gaze. He wondered what had caused it and wished at that moment that he could fix all of Tom’s problems.

—

“There isn’t much leftover this time,” Cedric said the next night as they stepped into the kitchen. Indeed, the food that was left looked to be barely enough for one of them.

“You can have it,” Harry said. “You’re the one who’s been doing most of the cleaning.”

“Nonsense. I had plenty yesterday. I can go a night without anything,” Cedric waved his hand dismissively. “You eat.”

And Harry did reluctantly, unable to change Cedric’s mind.

—

Harry blinked in surprise when he saw the shattered glass around Tom’s desk. So this was what had woken them up early tonight. It was strange, as Tom rarely broke anything, but he felt a surge of pride run through him at the thought that Tom trusted him enough to clean up something so sharp and dangerous.

Harry wouldn’t let Cedric take away this job. No, Harry would definitely do this one himself.

—

Harry shifted slightly in his nest as the air around him lightened. His mind protested, not willing to wake quite yet, especially when he was so warm and comfortable. But something niggled at the back of his mind. It was far too early to wake, but —

There was a shuffling sound within the cupboard, and a large presence that hovered just on the other side of the boxes that protected Harry and Cedric.

Tom. It was Tom.

Harry squeaked slightly in surprise, his eyes snapping open. Tom must be looking for something. Would he see them?

He held his breath, Cedric stirring with a murmur but did not wake even as Tom held the light up to peer at the boxes. Harry glanced over Cedric’s body and through a small gap onto Tom’s handsome features. He sighed a little as Tom turned in their direction, his gaze falling over Harry’s nest and pausing. Harry held his breath for a moment, his heart thumping, but then Tom’s gaze moved on, and a few moments later Tom retreated, expression dark, and a snarl leaving his lips as he closed the cupboard door behind him.

Harry supposed that Tom hadn’t found what he was looking for. Perhaps an important gift for his love. He sighed again, resting his head on his arms as he stared after the man. Sleep was slow to return that day.

—

“There’s lots this time,” Cedric said, reluctantly approving as he stared at the plate of leftovers.

Harry smiled. “You should eat lots,” he said as he took a bite. “You didn’t eat anything yesterday.”

Cedric agreed reluctantly. “You don’t think the human minds? I mean, if he wanted to feed you, wouldn’t he leave a cake?”

Harry shrugged. “Maybe he doesn’t know the customs.”

Cedric hummed doubtfully, but ate nonetheless. Once they were both full, they packed the rest away. Harry was feeling rather sleepy after eating, but he forced himself through as many of the chores as he could. Cedric seemed to be equally tired, even though he’d actually slept through the night.

Harry was so tired a mere half hour later that Cedric chased him to bed, promising to finish the cleaning despite the way his own eyes drooped.

Harry collapsed in his nest, guilt eating away at him. Such a useless brownie, he thought mournfully. It was no wonder Tom never left anything on his hearth.

—

When Harry woke the next evening, Cedric was gone. Harry blinked slowly, his mind sluggish. Thoughts came slowly to him, and sleep clung desperately to his every movement. He felt as if he was moving through molasses as he stared dumbly at the empty spot next to him.

Had Cedric finally grown tired of helping him? Or perhaps his human had returned home early and he’d had to leave before Harry awoke? Or perhaps Cedric felt that Harry was doing alright in the end?

Harry nibbled on his lip and sighed. He felt rather put out that his friend hadn’t at least said goodbye, but he had been sleeping rather deeply, so perhaps Cedric just hadn’t been able to wake him up.

He fiddled with his shirt a little glumly and wondered if there was _anyone_ who would want him around. Maybe the Dursleys had been right to be so ungrateful. Maybe Harry was just… just a really bad brownie.

He heard the taps squeak upstairs and his eyes widened, his cheeks immediately flushing. All other thoughts fled from his mind and he scrambled from his nest and into the house, creeping upstairs and folding up the towel he’d found on the bannister, holding it to his chest as he peered around the corner.

And — there was Tom. Perfect, handsome Tom. And he was smiling again. Harry felt his heart swell, his lips curving upwards in sweet response to Tom’s happiness. He didn’t know what had caused the man’s terrible mood, but Harry was glad that it was over.

He shuffled forward, watching as Tom shifted, the water already muddying slightly. The man was cleaning under his nails and Harry could see that his palms were reddened and rough, as if he had been out labouring. Harry wondered if the man had gone tromping around in the woods. Perhaps collecting ingredients as he sometimes did?

Either way, the bubbles of soap dripped from his skin, his muscles gleamed, flexing with each motion and — oh, Morgana’s talking hat but he was attractive!

Harry huddled, the towel clutched close, until Tom turned away to face the little shaving mirror. Then he raced in and placed down the towel before running back out and crouching down, just beyond the door sill, his head between his knees and his fingers plugging his nose. A silly little smile curved his lips and he couldn’t help the slight giggle that escaped. Cedric might be gone, but Tom was still here. And so long as he was, Harry would be happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tom smirked as he turned to the chair next to the tub, his towel sitting innocently as if it had been there all along. As if a little brownie had not just placed it there.
> 
> His gaze darkened for a moment. The proper little brownie. The one that belonged to Tom. The one that Tom would never let anyone else take away from him. And if his brownie’s attention could be so easily captured by someone else, well… perhaps Tom would have to make his intentions known a little more… obviously…


	5. Garden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aka Tom flexes for Harry.

Harry peered out the window, carefully, slowly, and painfully eagerly. He loved it best when Tom spent time out in the garden. He loved watching the way he dug his hands into the earth and trailed his fingers along the leaves of the herbs and flowers, inspecting them with a narrowed eyes and a furrowed brow.

Even in the sleepy evening sun, the last lingering yawning of light, the man worked tirelessly, a faint beading of sweat covering his brow. His skin glimmered, ethereal and beautiful even smudged as it was with traces of dirt.

Sweat soaked Tom’s shirt, allowing it to stick to his form and revealing the rolling muscles and appealing form. Harry couldn’t help but lick his lips, his mouth suddenly dry as his eyes roved the man before him, separated only by a window and a mere few feet. His fingers twitched, itching to touch, but he forced himself to stay crouched, only his eyes peering out longingly.

Harry had always loved Tom’s garden. It was not one of unparalleled beauty, for it was too utilitarian to be considered artistic, but it was perfect in its symmetry and design, each plant thriving in the space it was given, and tended to with utmost precision. It was a far cry from the wild of the forest and Harry found himself enthralled by the way Tom handled each plant with such a delicate touch, as if each one was precious, made of glass and threatening to shatter if gripped too tightly.

Not that the plants were truly so fragile, of course. They were strong and hardy, able to survive harsh winters and grow back twice as large in spring. They were fierce in their own right. But still he could not help but smile at the tenderness they were shown. He sighed a little as he rested his head on the windowsill, imagining those same hands tucking his hair back and tracing his cheek, those same eyes focused upon him as if he were the centre of Tom’s world.

Ducking down and out of sight, Harry rested his head on his knees, his arms wrapping around his legs. Here behind the curtain, Tom would not see him when he came back in for the night. As it should be. Really, Harry should not hope to dream, for such disappointment would be too much for his heart to handle.

—

The next time Harry awoke early, he found himself feeling rather listless. Tired. And… sad. He sighed as he sat up in his nest. It was late summer and the air was still warm but he couldn’t help but feel cold, the blankets and pillows devoid of warmth-that-could-be. He sighed again, twisting his hands a little as he lingered in the darkness of the cupboard.

Tom had been working extra hard lately, stayingup later than usual in the garden, kneeling in the dirt, his form curved gracefully as he prepared the plants for the inevitable frost that would soon crawl its way into the coming season.

Harry couldn’t help but wonder why the man was suddenly spending so much more time in the garden. Tom had always ensured that it was well maintained, but in the past few weeks he had started paying unusual attention to it, as if…

Harry wilted. As if preparing to present his home to his fiancee. Because surely he would wish for her to see just how well he lives. How capable he is to nurture and care. To provide.

Suddenly the house seemed that much more foreign to Harry. All of Tom’s actions now had new meaning. Each time the man worked, it was to provide for his future family. Each time he bathed, it was to maintain his body for his future wife.

Despair sowed its seed within Harry and he sighed yet again, his motions duller, his mood wintry as he stepped from his cupboard.

He heard a dull thud echo through the house and the sound of faint cursing, and despite his mood he still felt urgent concern twist his heart. He hurried over to the sunroom, pausing just outside as he remembered to turn himself invisible before creeping around the corner. He knew he had to be extra careful like this, as he was prone to losing his invisibility, but as another thump resounded, he did not hesitate to creep forward.

It was hot in the room, the late evening sun still surprisingly warm and amplified by the large windows above and around. The room was filled with plants, most of which were tropical and foreign to Harry but beautiful nonetheless, cheery in their gentle breaths and murmurs.

And Tom…

Harry’s breath hitched as he rounded the corner and saw him, shirtless and — oh merciful snare of a devil, Tom was practically naked, dressed only in a pair of extremely short pants, his muscled legs flexing as he lifted a large pot and placed it on a shelf above his head where the plant — a Peace Lily — could have a perfect balance of shade and light.

Harry stood transfixed, watching the sunlight play off of Tom’s muscles as they flexed under the weight of the pot, then shifted back and relaxed as he lowered his arms and rolled his shoulders, scrutinizing his work.

A bead of sweat trailed down his back and into the curve before the swell of his ass and — oh beard almighty but Tom looked so very beautiful, his form fit, glowing in the light and so very perfect. His dark hair was in a slight disarray, dampened with sweat from the heat of the room. Harry could see Tom’s shirt flung over another shelf, and suddenly appreciated this room more than ever, even in its stifling heat and thick humidity.

He might never be able to touch. Might one day no longer be able to look. But at least for now… for now he could watch, his heart thudding in his ears, his blood rushing, his whole body so incredibly hot.

A soft breath escaped him as Tom turned in his direction, his face lightly shadowed by the setting sun, his hair glowing in its dying rays like a reddened halo. A fallen angel, or a devil in disguise. Harry did not know which, but he knew that in the end it did not matter, for the man had stolen his heart, and never would it be the same again. A part of it had been cut out, taken, and Harry would never get it back. Did not want it back. For even after Tom went off to marry another, he would, unknowingly, still carry a part of Harry with him.

He took a step back as Tom stepped forward, the man’s gaze focused on the door. He was done for the day, Harry supposed. He wondered if Tom would bathe. He wondered how many more times he would be able to admire him before everything changed.

Eyes lowering, Harry could not help the small sigh that parted his lips. It was quiet, barely a breath, and yet Tom paused just a hand-width away and Harry froze, eyes widening in the fear that Tom had heard him.

The man glanced up at the glass ceiling for a moment. He smiled, his white teeth flashing, his eyes glowing a deep brown — almost red in the sun’s last rays.

Then he turned, quick as a snake, his hand flashing out just as Harry jerked back to escape, a squeak escaping him. He — he should have been invisible! There was no way Tom could see him… right? Unless… unless his magic had failed and he hadn’t even noticed!

He ducked, his heart pounding. He would have to leave. Find a new home. Panic raced through his veins as he lurched to the side, aiming for the door. But he got no more than a step away when strong fingers captured his wrist, jerking him back, pulling him against a strong chest. Tom’s other arm wrapped around him, trapping him.

His magic sputtered, trying to turn him invisible, but his focus was fleeting, torn between fear and despair and the heat of Tom’s body against his. His breath hitched as his gaze was caught and he felt like a little mouse in the face of a snake’s maw, helpless and trembling.

Never before had he been seen like this. Never before had he been visible to a human. And never before had he been touched so, with a hand splayed across the small of his back, his arm tugged forward so that he could but hang there, their bodies pressed close.

For a moment all was still but for Harry’s heart, which skittered frantically as he tried to comprehend just how he had ended up so easily caught. But Tom was smiling, slow and wide, triumph flashing in his eyes as he gazed down at Harry. And suddenly Harry couldn’t really think anymore at all, because Tom was looking at him with such intensity that he thought he might collapse from the sheer weight of his gaze.

“Hello,” said Tom, the vibrations traveling straight through to Harry, making him shiver. “ _Harry_.”

Harry’s eyes widened.

_What_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tom smiled down at Harry. The brownie was a full foot shorter than himself, his eyes just a little too large to be human, his hair an absolute mess, his sweet lips parted in surprise, and Tom had never wanted anything — anyone — more than he wanted Harry right at this moment. 
> 
> No matter what came, Tom would not be letting him go.


	6. You saw me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Refractory period? What's that never heard of it.

“You — “ Harry squeaked, his heart thundering and his limbs trembling as he fought the urge to blast Tom back and flee out the door. Because he could not bear even the thought of hurting Tom. “You know my name,” he said, his eyes wide and confused. “You… saw me…”

Tom’s grip tightened, pulling his arm up a little higher until Harry had to stand on his toes. Their faces were mere inches apart and suddenly Harry found it difficult to breathe. To focus on anything but the human who held him.

Heat seeped through Tom’s shirt and into Harry, and he had never realized just how warm humans were. A dry, honeyed musk pervaded his senses as he was drawn closer. Warm breath dusted his cheeks and he flushed as his arousal flared, insistent and fierce now that the one he desired was right there. _Touching_ him.

Tom’s hand trailed a little lower, teasing over the swell of his ass and then pressing until Harry whimpered, shuddering as his cock was pressed into the heat of Tom’s muscled thigh. How sweet it felt. How delicious. How very forbidden.

At that moment, Tom’s eyes darkened, dilating as his lips parted, a soft breath escaping him. “Oh Harry,” he said, his words almost a groan, “I had intended to be patient. To wait. But suddenly I find myself so terribly tempted and so very disinclined to reject what is so readily offered.”

Then the man shifted and Harry felt the bulge in Tom’s shorts press against his stomach, hot and hard. Desire flashed through him — a stroke of heat that made him tremble, and he reached up to clutch at Tom’s arm. And oh how smooth his skin was. How soft. Harry knew he should be trying to escape. Should be pulling away or using his magic to slip free.

But somehow he could only wait, entranced by the way the evening sun played along Tom’s skin, the way his soft scent flared with each breath that left Tom’s lips, the way the man was looking at him as if Harry was the one that Tom desired.

Sorrowful longing blended with his arousal and Harry couldn’t look away from the beauty before him, as if Tom were a siren instead of the perfect human that Harry had desired since he had first laid eyes upon the man. It would almost be easier if he were, for then Harry would not have to feel the guilt that simmered beneath it all. The guilt at knowing that Tom was touching him while he should be with his fiancée.

Harry made to speak but then Tom moved, his head dipping down as he pressed their lips together. His lips were soft against Harry’s, and it was as if Tom held magic of his own, for Harry swore that something settled into place within him as their lips touched. It was a gentle feeling, like part of him had returned home. A piece that had been missing up until now. And Harry couldn’t help but press upwards with a small noise of happiness, for even if he could not have Tom, he would always have this moment.

His eyes slid shut as Tom pressed further and he shivered as the man’s tongue swept across his lower lip, wet and insistent until Harry’s lips parted. Tom made a sound of satisfaction and his tongue slipped inside, meeting Harry’s and allowing the brownie to taste the sweetness that had ensnared him from the moment he had been pulled into the man’s embrace.

How divine. Or perhaps sinful. Harry did not know. Could not tell. But he knew that he was falling, his lips moving against Tom’s in desperation and desire. He wanted. Oh, he wanted. Could he not have, just this once?

Guilt gnawed at his conscience and he pulled back for a moment, uncertainty loosening his tight hold and cooling his lust. But then, as if sensing his hesitance, Tom pushed him back and down until he fell upon the rough cloth of the bags of dirt piled along the wall.

For a split second Tom’s grip upon him loosened enough for him to flee. For a split second Harry thought of exactly what he should be doing. And for that split second he lay still, his gaze meeting Tom’s, and he hesitated just long enough for the man to trap him once more, his larger form pinning Harry down.

Tom’s legs trapped his own, the man’s weight enough to keep Harry still as large hands began to unbutton Harry’s thin tunic. He shivered each time Tom’s fingers brushed against the skin of his chest, heat flaring as the man moved lower, eyes darkening as Harry was revealed to him, inch by inch.

“I had heard that brownies were a tidy sort. Clean,” said Tom almost casually but for the hoarse quality of his voice. “There were no brownies where I grew up. I had only ever heard the tales. And then you came along,” Tom continued, smiling in satisfaction as he finally parted the cloth of Harry’s tunic, revealing his smooth chest and the tented fabric of his pants.

Harry’s breath stuttered as the man spoke, his lips mesmerizing and his adam’s apple dipping and Harry could barely focus on the words when Tom was touching him like that.

“The first brownie destroyed my kitchen after I snubbed her. It wasn’t as if I needed one, though. I had managed well enough on my own for so long. Why should I cater to the whims of a mercurial creature?” Tom’s thumb brushed along Harry’s cheek, gentle as a breeze. He trailed his fingers across Harry’s parted lips, dipping in just enough to imply something far more intimate. Then he trailed his hand down Harry’s chest.

“But you,” Tom leaned closer, his eyes lidding as he gazed down at the one he had trapped. “You were different. Not like your brethren. No, you…” Tom smiled slowly, his face becoming shadowed as the sun dipped behind the horizon. “You were so very… dirty. Weren’t you, Harry,” Tom said, his breath puffing against Harry’s ear.

Harry jerked indignantly. “I wasn’t — “ he protested.

“Spying on me while I bathed,” Tom continued as if Harry had not interrupted him. “Watching me sleep. Such filthy thoughts you must have had,” Tom chuckled, deep and low, and Harry closed his eyes, flushing at the truth of Tom’s words.

He had coveted what was not his, after all. He had desired what he could not have. It was wrong of him. And yet he could not bring himself to regret the way he felt, for it was his heart that spoke, and what did Harry have in his life if not love?

“Shall I cleanse you of such thoughts?” Tom asked, his tongue tracing the shell of Harry’s ear, making the brownie shiver. “Or perhaps,” Tom mused, his lips moving to Harry’s neck, “I should encourage them.” Teeth nibbled upon the sensitive skin and Harry gasped, his head tilting to the side as sparks scurried across his skin, heat flaring where they touched.

Tom nibbled his way downwards and Harry could only grip at the cloth beneath him, the rough material grounding him as Tom’s touch sent his thoughts flying, his mind a dazed mess. He shouldn’t… he shouldn’t — what?

One of Tom’s hands gripped his shoulder, keeping him in place as he wiggled against the pleasure of Tom’s lips. The other splayed across his stomach, powerful even in the gentle pressure exerted from the motion.

Then Tom’s tongue pressed, hot and wet against Harry’s nipple, and he could not help but cry out, arching as pleasure spread from the touch. Tom drew back for a moment, a smirk forming.

“Sensitive,” he murmured, sounding pleased. He dipped back down, his tongue flicking Harry’s nipple this time, drawing sharp gasps each time.

Harry trembled, heat growing with each touch. White teeth flashed in the dimming light, then scraped against his sensitive nubs and Harry sobbed at the white hot pleasure. His hips jerked but Tom’s hand stayed his motions and he could only wish for relief, for friction.

The cloth of his pants felt tight, and Harry moved his arm, reaching for himself, only to shout in a beautiful mixture of pain and pleasure as Tom bit down on his nipple, sending jolts of electric ecstasy streaming through him. His motions stuttered and tears welled at the conflicting sensations. Tom’s dark gaze met his, and Harry let his arm fall back down. Tom rewarded him with a slow lick to soothe the ache that formed from the simple punishment and Harry let out a sound that both relieved and needy.

Tom shifted then, moving to Harry’s other nipple, and Harry loved the motion and hated it, for the air felt cold upon his chest where Tom did not touch, and yet Harry could not bring himself to desire anything but what Tom was doing to him.

Finally, finally, Tom’s hand moved from his stomach, coming up to flick the nub that he had just abandoned, and Harry cried out as it was pinched, feeling so good as Tom’s mouth moved, teeth nibbling and tongue soothing and Harry writhed, wishing he could buck his hips up into Tom’s thigh. Because he could not take much more.

Tom tugged one of his nipples, the motion sparking a pained heat that went straight to his cock, and he felt himself grow close.

“I…” Harry gasped, feeling a tear drip from his eyes as he panted. “I’m going to…”

Tom hummed, sounding pleased as he bit down a little harder. “So dirty,” he said, a smirk underlying his words. “What a filthy boy.”

And Harry couldn’t help it. His cock throbbed, Tom’s voice shooting through his veins like fire, and he came, a scream falling from his lips like a prayer. He bucked, his body moving beyond his control now as pleasure took over, whiting out his thoughts as he focused on Tom’s touch, on the way he rumbled his pleasure, on the triumph that bled into his motions.

Another tear dripped from his eyes and Harry shuddered, his body beginning to calm, clarity returning slowly. Something hot and wet trailed up his cheek and Harry whimpered, overly sensitive. It would be so easy to fall back to pleasure as Tom drank in his ecstasy.

“Did you imagine it like this?” Tom murmured as he sat up a little, licking his lips as if to savour the taste of Harry’s tears. One of his hands dipped down to Harry’s groin where he fingered gently over the damp material.

Harry’s arousal stirred once more and he saw a flash of surprise cross Tom’s face.

“Already?” The man murmured before smirking. “How convenient,” he said. “We are only just getting started, after all.”

Harry made a choked sound as Tom’s hand pressed down on his crotch, kneading gently until he had teased Harry’s cock enough that it hardened fully.

“Tom,” he said between gasps, his hips rolling into the man’s hand. “We shouldn’t — “

“Oh?” Tom laughed. “You say that now,” he murmured, his fingers digging until he had Harry’s cock partially gripped through the fabric. “Isn’t it a little late?”

“But — “ Harry protested, even though he couldn’t think of any words to follow. “You — “

Tom tilted his head almost curiously, but released his grip on Harry’s shoulders to press two fingers into Harry’s mouth. He pressed down on Harry’s tongue, preventing the brownie from speaking further.

Harry felt that he should protest. Because Tom had a fiancée waiting for him, and Harry shouldn’t have ever even revealed himself to the man, but —

Oh, goddess.

Tom’s fingers were thick and lightly calloused and they slid so smoothly between his lips, pressing with just enough pressure that Harry stilled, his mind delving to thoughts that were far too daring for him to truly contemplate.

Then Tom pressed his other hand down as well, the heat seeping through the fabric of Harry’s pants and into his cock and Harry’s voice came out muffled through Tom’s fingers as he cried out in pleasure.

He was more sensitive now and he could feel even the gentle motions as Tom lifted his hand to trail his fingers along the outline of Harry’s cock, teasing as Harry writhed, only able to beg with his eyes.

“What am I to do,” Tom murmured as he pressed his palm against Harry’s crotch and moved it in a gentle circle, “with such a dirty brownie?”

Harry whimpered, wanting to deny the accusation, but unable to, because Tom was right. He should never have looked at Tom as he did. Should never have desired him. But Harry had only followed his heart, and that… that, Harry could not bring himself to regret.

He made a small noise, one of shame, one of longing, one of something Harry had not quite allowed himself to explore. And he pushed his hips into Tom’s hand, unable to deny the pleasure that was growing, building under the heat of Tom’s touch.

“Ah,” Tom said, sounding almost gentle, something soft growing beneath his gaze. “So precious,” he murmured. Then he tugged at the hem of Harry’s pants, pulling them down to free Harry’s cock. He grabbed it immediately, his fingers wrapping around it and moving, slowly at first, then faster, his eyes trained upon the way Harry’s eyes rolled back and his breaths quickened.

His fingers slipped from Harry’s mouth and he shifted his hips, bringing Harry’s leg to wrap around his waist. He bent down, his forehead meeting Harry’s, their breaths mingling as Harry keened, his body moving to Tom’s rhythm.

The hand around Harry’s cock was so very hot, and each stroke sent pleasure coursing through him, ever hotter, ever closer.

“Tom,” Harry whimpered, his hands coming up to wrap around Tom’s neck. The sacks beneath him felt rough against his skin, the smell of earth blending with the sweet scent of Tom’s skin and suddenly the air felt thick and Harry’s breath stuttered and his head fell back, Tom’s lips falling to his shoulder, teeth digging into soft flesh, and heat flaring and pleasure pulsing and Harry sobbed as he came once more, his come splattering across his chest as Tom’s hand urged him through his orgasm.

It was hot and fierce and Harry’s hips jerked in desperate motions as he was guided to the edge and back down. His body trembled and he let out soft breaths as Tom trailed his fingers along his spent cock, eliciting sparks of remnant pleasure.

Harry blinked languidly, his body tired from the intensity of his orgasms. Slowly, slowly, he began to focus, first on the smug look that adorned Tom’s face. Then the way his eyes were darkened in unfulfilled lust. And the way his lips were pulled back in a leering grin, teeth gleaming in the dim light.

Harry’s eyes trailed to the side as something glimmered, pale and pearlescent in the waning light. It was caught on the ends of Tom’s hair, clinging like dew drops, and Harry’s eyes widened at the sight of his come marring Tom’s perfection.

“Oh,” Harry said, dismay clinging to his voice. “I’m sorry,” he said, his hand reaching up to brush Tom clean. But it was not enough. Not enough. “I made you dirty, too.”

Tom’s eyes widened a fraction, then he chuckled, sounding almost amused. “Well then,” he murmured. “Shouldn’t you clean me off?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Oh_ , Tom thought as he stared down at Harry. At the flushed cheeks and pleading eyes and the pink tongue that swept across soft lips. _How beautiful_.
> 
> He smiled, slow and predatory. _Mine_.


	7. Clean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last time:
> 
> “Oh,” Harry said, dismay clinging to his voice. “I’m sorry,” he said, his hand reaching up to brush Tom clean. But it was not enough. Not enough. “I made you dirty, too.”
> 
> Tom’s eyes widened a fraction, then he chuckled, sounding almost amused. “Well then,” he murmured. “Shouldn’t you clean me off?”

Harry was nodding before he even realized it. “Yes,” he said, concern marring his brow. “Yes, of course.” He had to clean Tom. He pushed upwards, forcing Tom back. The man blinked in surprise at Harry’s sudden strength, but did not protest as the brownie tugged him to his feet.

Harry glanced back a couple of times as he led the man up the stairs and to the bathroom, worried that Tom was upset at Harry for dirtying him. For allowing himself to indulge so crassly. But each time he looked, Tom was watching him with a bemused expression that was softened by a small smile that lingered on his lips.

Only letting him go once they were next to the tub, Harry turned on the taps and placed just enough soap for the water to foam gently. He dipped his finger in to test the temperature, and though it was hot, he felt more heat from the intensity of Tom’s gaze than he did the water. All of a sudden time seemed to stretch, each second feeling far longer, and the few minutes it took to fill the tub felt infinitely long.

It was with relief that Harry turned off the tub and turned back to Tom. Except that his relief switched to uncertainty once more as he took in the tall man and his dark gaze and his curved lips.

“What now, Harry?” The man asked, his smirk growing as Harry flushed.

“I — the bath…” Harry trailed off, his eyes lingering on Tom’s shorts. Because the man could not enter the bath while clothed, but he also did not seem inclined to remove his own clothes.

“What about it, Harry?” Tom tilted his head.

“I... “ Harry wavered, then gathered himself. Who was he, after all, if not a brownie? “I need to bathe you!” He exclaimed, his voice louder than he intended, and he flushed a little but jerked his chin upwards, defiant even in the face of his embarrassment.

“Just like this?” Tom raised a brow as if mocking Harry, and the brownie scowled.

“Of course not!” He said, though he hesitated, his eyes lingering on the button of Tom’s shorts and the faintest trace of hair that he could see leading down below the fabric.

“I’m in your hands now,” Tom said, his fingers splaying wide and innocent at his sides.

Harry had so many reasons not to continue. Surely Tom could bathe himself. Harry cleaned houses. He didn’t clean… people. And yet he found himself reaching up, his smaller fingers moving lightly along the very edge of the seam, dancing just beyond the heat of Tom’s skin.

He leaned a little closer, unable to help himself as he breathed in the sweetness of Tom’s scent, darkened now by the musk of his arousal. Harry’s tongue traced his lower lip, wanting so badly to taste.

His fingers dipped under the top fold of Tom’s shorts, moving the stiff fabric to the side as his other pushed gently on the gleaming button. It slid through the small hole until the fabric parted, revealing another inch of Tom’s skin. Harry’s breath quickened as he slid his fingers downwards and released the next button, the sound of scratching fabric almost harsh in the silence of the bathroom.

The third button popped free and Harry paused, just for a moment. Because he knew that he shouldn’t. That what he was doing was something only Tom’s fiancée should do. But…

His eyes darted upwards, lingering for a moment on the hair that he had dirtied, then on the deep eyes that met his own, and selfishness overtook his actions as he tugged down Tom’s shorts, revealing the flesh that Harry so desired.

Tom’s cock was hard, and Harry gave a sharp intake of breath as it was bared before him, thick and wanting. His hands trembled for a moment as he was torn between ridding Tom of his clothes and touching as he longed to do.

Never before had Harry wanted anyone as badly as he wanted Tom. He wanted to press his face into his skin and inhale until all faded around him except for Tom.

He closed his eyes for a moment, then pulled Tom’s shorts down the rest of the way and stood with a reluctant sigh, moving away from Tom’s arousal. He pulled the man towards the tub, pausing to let him step from his clothes.

He hesitated then, glancing down at his own clothes, then back at Tom. He flushed a little at the man’s heated look. Tom stepped into the tub, lowering himself until his lower half was submerged, his chest and shoulders still bared to the cool, evening air. Steam rose around him, swirling in serpentine eddies. Harry nibbled on his lip, suddenly not quite sure how he wanted to proceed.

Tom raised a brow. “You plan to clean me from all the way over there?” he asked, shifting slightly so that he could rest his elbow on the side of the tub, his fist coming up to prop up his chin. The water splashed as he shifted, dripping down his chest in teasing shimmers.

Shaking his head and snapping himself from his strange daze, Harry quickly undressed, ignoring the way Tom’s eyes roved down his body. Harry was, in truth, rather glad to be out of his pants, as they were cold and sticky with the proof of his pleasure. He was already half hard and he blushed a little as Tom’s gaze lingered upon his arousal.

He quickly stepped into the tub, dipping down to hide his lower half. It was not a large space, though, and his legs pressed against Tom’s and it was difficult to move, trapped as he was between the man’s knees and the back of the tub.

Still, he had a job to do, and he wouldn’t let himself be flustered out of it. He grabbed the washcloth folded next to the tub and dipped it into the water. Then he rubbed the bar of soap across it and lathered it until it foamed.

He inched a little closer, the water lapping at his skin as he moved. He peered up shyly at Tom, who had yet to take his eyes off of him. Then he reached forward and placed the cloth on Tom’s chest and dragged it gently to the side. His balance was a little off and he slipped to the side, his hand coming out to grip at Tom’s thigh to balance himself.

Blushing at his clumsiness, Harry continued, working through the sweat and dirt that coated Tom’s chest. Each brush of cloth against skin revealed the lightly tanned flesh underneath, beading with small droplets of water. Harry lingered under the sharp line of Tom’s pectorals and down the muscled grooves of his abdomen. He moved the cloth slowly and gently, making sure to get into each dip and around each curve, leaving a trail of glowing skin behind.

Every once in a while he would peek up, meet Tom’s lidded gaze, and squeak a little, immediately dropping his eyes back down to Tom’s chest. Not that it was really any better, what with the way Tom’s nippes had pebbled against the cool air and Harry’s touch, or the way his muscles flexed as he shifted minutely.

Harry was quite sure that he was bright red, and he knew for certain that he was hard again, his body eager for Tom’s touch once more. But he pushed that desire away because he had a job to do. And besides, he really shouldn’t let Tom go any further. Not if the man had a fiancée waiting for him.

A darkness dwelled deep within him at the thought, but Harry did not let it rise up. Could not. If marrying some strange lady made Tom happy, then Harry would be happy for the man. He wouldn’t let his selfishness get in the way of Tom’s future.

He moved the washcloth up to Tom’s shoulder, leaning closer until their bodies were almost flush and he could feel the heat of Tom’s skin against his own. He licked his lips a little as he moved the cloth along the dips and grooves of Tom’s arm, momentarily lifting it to reach under the elbow before smoothing down to his wrist.

He dipped the cloth in the water to wet it once more before running it along the back of Tom’s hand. Then he turned the appendage over and traced the lines of Tom’s palm. It was soft there, the flesh more tender and delicate, and Harry was extra careful as he wiped away the dirt, paying special attention to the small calluses that marred his skin.

Tom’s hand twitched and Harry paused, worried that he was being too rough. He glanced at Tom’s face but the man was watching him with darkened eyes and lips lightly parted and Harry found that he had to turn back, unable to face the intensity of his gaze.

He gently encompassed each finger and slid the cloth outwards, wiping each cuticle and nudging just under the nail to remove all the dirt that clung stubbornly to Tom. And Harry couldn’t blame it, for he, too, longed to cling to Tom. To refuse to be parted.

Tom’s other arm received the same treatment, and Harry was careful not to press too hard, not wishing to cause Tom any discomfort as he had with the other hand. When he was finished with that side, he hesitated again, but steeled himself, determined not to shirk.

Trying to balance himself, he shifted so that his weight was resting mostly upon Tom’s thigh, their groins painfully close as he reached up, the washcloth freshly wrung as he ran it along the ends of Tom’s hair where his essence had landed not long ago. He heard Tom make a sharp intake of breath and felt a jolt of guilt. Tom was probably so uncomfortable now with Harry pressed practically on top of him.

“I’ll be fast,” he promised as he threaded his fingers through Tom’s hair, separating the soft strands before running the cloth through them again. They were a little stuck and it took a few tries to get them clean and Harry had to lean close, his chin resting on Tom’s collarbone as his tired muscles worked to keep him moving. To allow him to finish his job.

Because Harry truly was tired, wrung out from the two orgasms he’d had. But he couldn’t rest now — not when he had a job to complete. Not when Tom was relying on him. Tom might not need him anymore one day, but at least for now…

Cupping his hands full of water, he gently rinsed the ends of Tom’s hair, lingering a little longer than necessary on the soft, wavy strands. Because he knew what would come next and the thought was wonderful and terrible.

Finally, though, when he had no more reason to focus on Tom’s hair, he turned his gaze down, under the water where something much more intimate awaited his attention. Because Harry was cleaning Tom, and he was nothing if not thorough. Harry’s desires be damned, he would do his job, and he would do it well.

The washcloth dipped below the water with a small splash, and Harry’s view of Tom’s body was distorted by the gentle ripples of the water’s surface. So he relied on his touch instead, leading with one hand and following with the cloth. He rested his forehead on Tom’s chest as he squinted, peering as much as he could into the water.

He could feel the defined muscles of Tom’s abdomen leading to a trail of thicker, curlier hair around Tom’s cock — a darkened patch around the reddened length that jutted upwards, thick and hard. Harry wanted nothing more than to reach down and grasp it, but he restrained himself, knowing that it was not for him to touch.

Instead he trailed the cloth over the divots of Tom’s hips, just barely brushing around the man’s arousal.

“Harry,” Tom rumbled as the brownie’s hands moved further down his thighs. “Aren’t you neglecting something?”

Harry lifted his head, his eyes wide. “I… I’m not…” he lifted the cloth, wringing it as his gaze flickered from the depths of the water to Tom’s dark eyes.

“Isn’t it your job to clean me?” Tom murmured, shifting forward just a little.

“I — It is, but... “ Harry nibbled on his lower lip, “that part…”

Tom tilted his head, lazy like a snake observing its prey, and Harry shivered despite the heat of the bath.

“I can’t,” Harry blurted out finally, the cloth clenched in his fists. “Not when you have a fiancée!”

He saw Tom freeze, a flicker of surprise crossing his features, his eyes widening and his lips parting and he did not move for a few moments.

Finally he spoke. “A what?” Tom asked, uncharacteristically inarticulate.

“A fiancée,” Harry repeated, his gaze dropping to his hands. “The one you’ve been courting. With the presents. The locket, and the crown, and the ring and all. She… She must be really something,” he said a little glumly. “I couldn’t come between you and her. It… it would be wrong!”

Tom stared, his mouth opening as if to speak, then closing, then opening again. A choked sound emerged.

“But I’m gay,” Tom said, his eyes still wide, confusion marring his brow as he stared at Harry as if he couldn’t quite figure out what to make of him.

And Harry blinked, his brows coming together in mild confusion, not quite sure why Tom was so flustered. “Sorry, I mean, he. He must be amazing. To have your attention and everything…”

“But…” Tom started, then stopped, then stared almost helplessly at Harry, as if wishing that the brownie could solve all his problems. And Harry certainly wished he could, but he was just Harry. All he could do was clean. As much as he wished, he had no solution to whatever troubles Tom was having.

“Harry,” Tom said, sounding a little pained. “I don’t have a fiancé.”

Harry frowned. “But you gathered all those courting gifts. And — and you’ve been preparing the house for his arrival, and…” Harry trailed off, hoping he wasn’t being insensitive. He wasn’t trying to rub it in Tom’s face. In fact, inside he was elated, his heart thumping, because perhaps then Tom would still need him. Perhaps Tom would stay in this house and keep his brownie.

“I have been courting someone,” Tom said slowly, his features slowly relaxing, his eyes narrowing as he observed Harry. “But my advances have yet to be accepted.”

“Oh,” Harry said, shifted a little. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why anyone would reject you. You — you’re very handsome. And intelligent. And… and strong. Anyone would be lucky to have you,” he said earnestly, hoping that whoever it was hadn’t crushed Tom’s confidence. Or his heart. Because Tom did not deserve that.

“I think,” Tom said, his head tilting, “that they simply did not realize my intentions. But no matter,” he waved a hand in dismissal as Harry opened his mouth to reassure him once again. “I think I simply have to be… far more straightforward. Blunt, some might say. To… drive the point home.”

Harry nodded sagely. “Yes,” he said. “Some people just don’t get it.”

Tom smiled, slow and predatory, regaining his composure. “Indeed,” he murmured, pushing his body forward until Harry was driven back against the far end of the tub. Tom loomed, and Harry’s breath caught at the sight that Tom made, his body dripping and gleaming, the dim light of the sconces shadowing his features and catching along the edges of his muscles.

And Harry could only watch, wanting and stunned as Tom trapped him, an arm on either side of his head.

“For many months,” Tom murmured, his head dipping close until his lips brushed against Harry’s cheek, eliciting a thrill of shivers, “the target of my affections… has been you, Harry.”

And Harry thought that perhaps the world had disappeared from under him, for something within him rose, swelling and unfurling like the wings of a bird until his chest felt constricting, his heart too large, his breath too deep, unable to be contained by his small frame.

“I’m… what?” Harry said, his gaze wide and vulnerable, hope a painful wedge driven between each breath.

“The locket,” Tom murmured, his fingers tracing a path down Harry’s neck, dipping into his collarbone and down his chest. “The diadem.” He brushed his lips across Harry’s temple. “The ring.” He clasped Harry’s hands in his. “All of them were for you.”

Harry stared. He stared so hard he thought his eyes might fall from his head. And his heart thumped so loudly that he thought it might jump from his chest. And his thoughts swirled so fiercely that he could not catch a single one. Could not make sense of the words Tom spoke.

All he could do was stare, his lips moving soundlessly, something helplessly hopeful making its way into his heart.

“Huh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tom had grown up in a cutthroat world. One where each word, each motion, each expression meant a multitude.
> 
> And he realized, as he stared into Harry’s clear, hopeful eyes, that this was the first time he had encountered such simple, blunt _honesty_. 
> 
> A dark greediness paced through him, eager to claim. Harry was his, and in return, Tom would care for him, protect him. 
> 
> _Love_ him.


	8. Splish splash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot going on these days. I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy. I also encourage everyone to fight for what's right. Black Lives Matter and we need to be anti-racist to create change and equality. Equality isn't a trend. It needs to be a way of life. 
> 
> Thank you, and please enjoy the chapter.

Harry was quite sure that the world could end right at that moment and he would not even notice, his brain too preoccupied with a miasma of inconceivable notions, because surely Tom wasn’t — couldn’t — didn’t —

“You’ve been courting me?” He squeaked, each word a question. “But… but I’m just a brownie, and — and we’ve never even talked before!”

“Haven’t we?” Tom tilted his head. “Perhaps not in the traditional sense,” he said, “but each night you showed your affection, cleaning for me and asking nothing in return. No one else would have stayed. They would have stormed off, like the previous one. But you remained, taking only what little you needed from my leftovers, and devoting yourself despite the fact that I partook in none of the traditional gestures of gratitude.” He reached up, his fingers so very gentle as he stroked Harry’s cheek. “And that, my dear sweet Harry, told me far more than words ever could.”

“You… the leftovers…”

Tom looked fondly indulgent as he waited for Harry to process his words.

“You knew that…”

Long fingers ran through Harry’s hair. It was a soothing gesture, and Harry pressed into the hand even as he looked rather helplessly at Tom.

“You saw me… the whole time…” Oh sweet Mother Magic, had he failed so badly as a brownie, to be spotted so easily?

Tom hummed. “It would have been almost impossible to catch you,” he said, “if not for the Gaunt ancestry that I carry.”

Harry’s eyes widened, his breath stuttering. Gaunt? As in… the high fae… one of the families of olde, so secretive that they were thought to be extinct, or perhaps even a mere myth…

“It is a distant ancestry, diluted many times over, but it is just enough that I can see right through your invisibility. I can see the traces of your magic. You could not have hidden from me, no matter how hard you tried.”

Feeling a little faint, Harry could only stare, taking in the reddish depths of Tom’s eyes, and the sweet, dry scent that Harry had been so sure was Tom’s human nature but, in truth, it was something far more than that. And suddenly a pained hope flooded through him.

He opened his mouth to speak, but his throat was tight and no words would emerge. So instead he raised a hand, slowly, to give Tom the time to back away. He placed his hand on Tom’s cheek, small trembles shaking his fingers, but he moved forward determinedly, not willing to back down now that… now that he might actually be able to…

Harry pressed their lips together, his eyes lidding as Tom pressed back, heat flooding through him at the small gesture. Tom was gentle at first, restraining himself to soft brushes, but his eyes darkened quickly, and soon he made a noise of impatience, his teeth nipping at Harry’s lower lip until his lips parted. Tom’s tongue slid in, just as it had the previous time, and yet somehow it felt different. It felt right. And Harry wanted to stay like this, their tongues twined, their lips pressed, the sweet, honeyed scent of Tom’s skin lingering in the air.

But it seemed that Tom wasn’t quite so willing to wait, for he pressed Harry back against the edge of the tub, the water sloshing as he lifted Harry’s legs up and around his waist, leaning forward until their groins were flush, their arousals rubbing with each motion.

Harry made a small sound of pleasure, his hips jerking against Tom’s. And then Tom was nibbling at his neck, his teeth scraping and his tongue soothing and it sent shivers along his skin, something almost electric that only added to the growing heat.

“Ah,” Harry gasped as Tom’s thumb came up to flick Harry’s nipple, the man’s mouth descending to the juncture of Harry’s neck and shoulder, leaving a reddened trail in his wake.

Harry’s hands came up to grip Tom’s arms, his fingers clenching at the muscles for a few moments before sliding up to his shoulders and then curling around the man’s back to help steady himself as Tom ground their hips together, sparks of pleasure making Harry writhe, his head falling back and thudding against the wall.

“Tom,” Harry whined, the heat growing almost unbearable, pleasure curling and sparking within him, getting so very close to being released.

But then Tom drew back and Harry whimpered, trying to pull him closer. A hand on his inner thigh made him pause, the fingers digging briefly into his muscles before sliding further down and brushing just past his balls. He shifted, trying to get Tom to touch him, but the man merely gave him two light taps upon his ass, gentle and slowed by the water but clear in intent. Harry stilled, nibbling his lower lip to keep in his complaints. His cock was throbbing, aching and needing, and if he shifted just enough he could probably brush it against Tom’s arm. But he resisted, his fingers clenching into the muscles of Tom’s back.

A finger traced the skin just behind Harry’s balls and he made a small sound, the skin sensitive and the touch pleasurable, if teasing. If it just moved forward a little…

But Tom did not move forward. In fact, he moved further back, pressing a finger to the soft, puckered ring of Harry’s ass. Harry’s breath hitched, his eyes widening as the finger pressed in, slowly and gently. Tom paused every few moments to give Harry time to adjust, and Harry’s eyes fluttered shut as the man moved deeper, inch by inch.

It burned without anything to lubricate the way, but Harry did not mind, his attention focused solely on the feeling of being filled, of the friction against his sensitive walls. Then Tom crooked his finger and Harry gasped at the sudden pleasure that melted through him, deep and thrumming. He moaned as Tom did it again and again, his muscles trembling as he tensed, his cock neglected but his prostate nudged over and over again until Harry was panting, his hips jerking helplessly in Tom’s grasp.

The end of Tom’s palm pressed against Harry’s balls and the combined pleasure made him moan, grinding his hips down, no longer able to control his motions. Tom drew back, his eyes dilated as he watched him, satisfaction bleeding across his face as Harry stuttered Tom’s name in a plead for release.

Tilting his head, Tom seemed to ponder for a moment. Then he slowly withdrew his hand, ignoring Harry’s whimper.

“In due time,” he murmured, tracing the hole before shifting his whole body back, causing Harry’s legs to drop, his arms falling as the man moved just out of reach. Harry frowned, balancing himself with his hands on the edge of the tub, only for Tom to grip under one of his legs and flip him over, splashing water over the side as Harry flailed for a moment, a squeak of surprise escaping him.

His knees banged against the ceramic of the tub but the water soothed the worst of the ache. Unbalanced once more, he reached forward to prop himself up and glanced back at Tom with a slight scowl.

“Tom,” he complained. “What — “ But Tom was watching him hungrily, his expression darkened by the flickering shadows, and Harry felt his breath hitch, suddenly only able to focus on the way Tom’s lips parted and his tongue came out to wet them. Tom’s eyes flicked up to meet his and the man smiled.

“I have no desire to make this a painful experience for you,” he said, reaching next to them to grab one of the bottles. He poured a generous amount of the thick, soapy liquid onto his fingers, and then pressed them against Harry’s entrance.

Harry’s head dropped onto his hands as the two fingers nudged forward, breaching him slowly. It burned even with the soap, but it did make it far smoother, and Harry soon found himself rocking back, urging Tom’s fingers deeper.

Every once in a while Tom would curl his fingers, teasing Harry’s prostate, and keeping him panting and moaning, but never bringing him too close to the edge.

“Please, Tom,” Harry begged. He glanced back, wondering if he should be doing more — had he not been in the middle of cleaning Tom? But Tom was looking so very satisfied, unbothered by Harry’s inability to do more than cling to the edge of the tub and fuck himself on the man’s fingers.

The mere knowledge that Tom was inside him made Harry’s cock throb, but it was still not enough. Tom was moving his fingers slowly, unhurried despite the desire that painted his features. Harry wriggled his hips, hoping it would encourage the man to move just a little faster or press his fingers just a little deeper. He was about to reach down and grab his own cock when Tom pulled his fingers out.

Harry cried out at the sudden friction, the motion far faster than the previous languid thrusts. Then Tom leaned over Harry, his cock coming to rest between Harry’s cheeks. He thrust his hips as slowly as he had his hands, the head of his cock brushing over Harry’s entrance, then moving up and past until Tom’s balls were pressed against Harry.

The man hummed, tracing a hand down Harry’s back as his cock nudged at Harry’s hole once more. “Is this what you want, Harry?”

Harry nodded quickly. “Yes,” he said, then, “please.”

Tom smiled, his eyes reddened in the dim light. “Since you’re so polite,” he said. He uncapped the same bottle as before and coated his cock. Then he grabbed Harry’s cheeks and pulled them apart, revealing his entrance. He pressed against it, his cock hot and hard, the head far thicker than the two fingers he had used to stretch Harry.

But still Harry pressed back, his lips parting as Tom breached him, stretching him wider and wider as he pressed forward into Harry’s tight, wanting body.

“Oh,” Harry moaned, relishing the burn because it was Tom. Tom was inside him. Tom wanted him. Tom was claiming him. Harry wanted to cry and scream and shout in his joy but all he could do was whimper as Tom pushed deeper until Harry swore he couldn’t take anymore. Then Tom slid in a few inches more and Harry panted, sweat dotting his forehead as he struggled to take Tom’s length.

“It’s so big,” Harry gasped as Tom pressed fully inside, their hips meeting. Tom rested there for a moment, a hand smoothing its way down Harry’s back, dipping into the divots of his spine and the dimples at the small of his back. Even softened by the water, Tom’s callouses were rough, sending goosebumps across Harry’s skin.

But evidently Tom was impatient, for it wasn’t long before he started rolling his hips in smooth motions, pressing himself into Harry over and over again, as if he could not bear to be too far from him, as if wishing to be eternally joined.

Water splashed over the edges of the tub and Harry should have been more horrified at the mess they were making, but at this moment all he could focus on was the feel of Tom inside him, of the hands that roamed his skin, of the eyes that watched his pleasure with greedy eyes.

His orgasm approached embarrassingly quickly, his pleasure exacerbated by the heat of the water against his skin and the sensation of Tom looming above him, taking what he desired. The steam from the bath blurred his vision and the scent of soap and honey flooded his nose and Harry whined as Tom pressed against that spot, again and again until he was coming, his back arching and his muscles trembling and his mouth falling open in a cry of unadulterated pleasure.

His eyes fluttered shut as Tom fucked him through the remnants of his orgasm, sparks of pleasure jolting through his veins until he was whimpering, wanting more and yet so sensitive that it was almost painful.

Tom paused, trailing his nails down Harry’s back, eliciting a shiver from the small brownie. Then he withdrew, pulling out slowly and letting Harry fall from his hands. The brownie sank down into the water, his breaths still coming in quick puffs and his limbs just a little too tired to hold him up.

Turning a little, he stared up at Tom. The man was watching him back, a small curve to his lips, his eyes lidded.

“You…” Harry said as he turned fully and propped himself up against the edge of the tub. “You didn’t…” He blushed as he glanced between Tom’s legs were he was still hard.

“Won’t you help me, Harry?” Tom purred, bracing his arms against the edges of the tub and leaning forward over Harry, crowding him.

Swallowing, Harry nodded. Of course he would help. He was nothing if not a Brownie, after all.

Determined to give Tom the same pleasure he had received, he wrapped a hand around Tom’s cock. It was still slick with soap and his hand moved quickly and easily up and down. He glanced up a little shyly, still slightly unsure of his actions, and was met with Tom’s heated gaze, the man’s jaw clenched as he grunted, thrusting his hips just a little as Harry’s squeezed his hand.

Emboldened, Harry slid his thumb over the slit, dipping in briefly and relishing the groan that emerged from Tom’s lips. He stroked a little faster, but eventually his arm got tired and he had to switch hands. He nibbled on his lip as he peered through his lashes to take in Tom’s expressions, feeling a strange sense of pride at the way he made the vein in Tom’s jaw throb and made his cheeks flush in arousal and made his breaths quicken.

Tom’s hips were moving in time with Harry’s strokes and he felt the man’s cock throb in his grasp. Determined, he moved his hand faster, his other arm balancing against Tom’s strong thigh.

“Harry,” Tom gasped as he came, his seed splattering against Harry’s shoulder. The next jolt shot the rest onto Harry’s cheek, thick and hot as the droplets slid down his face, gleaming white and burning, as if searing into his very skin.

Above him, Tom shuddered as Harry stroked him until he had softened. He closed his eyes for a moment, and when they opened he looked far more composed, a smug smirk touching the edge of his lips as he stared down at Harry. Then he bent down, his tongue coming out to lick his own seed from Harry’s cheek before pressing their lips together and passing it to Harry, the bitter taste staining his tongue.

Harry flushed, his arousal flaring at the taste of Tom, but he was tired and barely had the energy to keep himself upright. Tom pulled him forward until he was leaning against the man’s chest. Then Tom grabbed the washcloth and pressed it against Harry’s skin.

“I can do it,” Harry said, frowning. His arms were tired but at least he could do his job…

“Let me,” Tom said, cutting Harry off. Their eyes met and Harry’s breath hitched at the intensity that glimmered within. His protests died and he sat placidly as Tom cleaned him, gently wiping his face and his neck and down his shoulders, each touch feather-light, as if worried, now, that Harry might shatter — despite evidence to the contrary from mere moments before.

Yet Harry could not bring himself to protest such tenderness, for it swelled his heart and for a moment he thought he might cry. But he blinked away the stinging in his eyes and watched Tom with a quiet little smile. And he allowed the man to drain the tub and wipe him off and place a large, fluffy robe around his shoulders.

He even allowed the man to carry him to the bedroom and place him beneath the covers, even though the house had yet to be cleaned and Harry had not even begun to dust the mantle or sweep the floors.

Such concerns seemed distant, all of a sudden, as he was wrapped up in Tom’s arms. He closed his eyes as Tom ran his hands through Harry’s hair, pulling it downwards as if he could flatten it. Harry lay there against Tom’s chest for a few minutes before opening his eyes and looking up.

“So you… you really don’t have a fiancée?”

Tom’s fingers moved down to trace Harry’s lips. He seemed amused by Harry’s question. “I never had any intention of courting anyone but you.”

Harry blushed. “You don’t mind that I’m…” That I’m a brownie? That I’m not human? That far from the best at what I do…

“Harry,” Tom said, sounding out his name as if it were a precious gem balanced upon his tongue. “Nothing will make me change my mind.”

Harry stared, wide-eyed. Then a smile bloomed and he leaned up and pressed his lips against Tom’s. “Alright,” he said, a pleasant haze spreading through him until he feared he might float away. Only Tom’s arms around him kept him grounded.

“Sleep now,” Tom said, pulling the blankets over the both of them. “The rest can wait until morning.”

Humming tiredly, Harry rested his head against Tom’s chest, and allowed the melody of his heart to lull him to sleep. In the morning he would wake wrapped up in Tom. And the next morning as well. And every morning would begin with Tom, and every day would end with Tom, and Harry sighed into Tom’s neck, for he had never been happier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tom ran a hand through Harry’s hair. It was soft and wild, just like the little brownie. Lethargy weighed upon his eyelids and he allowed himself to drift to sleep, content in the knowledge that Harry was his now. Nothing would take him away — he wouldn’t allow it.

**Author's Note:**

> Tom’s steps were quiet as he descended, his eyes taking in the freshly swept floor, the shining dishes, and the faint smell of earth that lingered in the air. His eyes trailed to the door of the cupboard under the stairs, debating. Then he gave a little sigh and turned away to prepare his morning tea, something that faintly resembled a smile lingering upon his lips.


End file.
